


After all This Time

by Crab_Lad



Series: Writers Month Good Omens [13]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Angst, Background Character Death, Crowley Needs a Hug (Good Omens), F/M, First Kiss, Flappers, Fluff and Angst, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He Gets a Hug, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Leonardo Da Vinci - Freeform, Library of Alexandria, M/M, Pining, loose history knowledge, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 21:56:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20320123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crab_Lad/pseuds/Crab_Lad
Summary: Day 13: feelingsCrowley has come close to revealing his feelings several times, but never once took the leap.





	After all This Time

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is it started off as something else but ended up something else. i still!! really like how it came out  
also idk what im doing ok im just emotional over these guys ok.  
Anyway enjoy  
update: made some edits but if there's anymore things i mIssed please, please let me know. I wrote this late so i probably made a few errors

**48 B.C. Egypt.**

Something was wrong. 

It struck something deep in Crowley's being, this sense of wrong. Dragging himself out of sleep, he rose out of his home. He could smell fire in the distance and could sense Aziraphale right in the middle of it. 

He cursed, and when he looked outside he knew exactly what was going on. The library was burning down. Of course the angel was there. He was probably attempting to save manuscripts. Aziraphale was going to get himself discorporated. Crowley ignored the people screaming past him as they ran. The fire was reaching high into the sky as if trying to reach the heavens. Thick, black smoke rose up even higher than the orange-red-yellow flames. 

The humans were too busy running in fear to notice when Crowley released his dark wings. He lifted into the sky. It was faster to move in the air than the ground. As he neared the burning structure, he called out for Aziraphale. But he couldn't see anything, nor could he hear anything. The flames were searing even from where he was. 

He landed on the edges of the water, rushing to get into the building.

“AZIRAPHALE!” He screamed. 

Into the flames he went, desperate to find the angel. It took a few minutes for him to hone in on the location of Aziraphale. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley growled as he approached the angel desperately grabbing at scrolls, “What the hell are you doing?” 

Aziraphale didn’t turn to look back at him. He kept trying to reach up to grab more scrolls.

It wasn’t the time, they could discuss it later. Any minute the place would cave in. 

“Aziraphale, let’s GO!” 

He tried grabbing onto the angel’s arm but he yanked it back.

“No!” Aziraphale cried, finally looking at him. “I need to save them.” 

“You’re going to get yourself kill-discorporated, we need to leave now!” 

But Aziraphale just went back to shoving scrolls into his bag.

Cursing again, Crowley unleashed his wings once more, using their might to hold back the flames for a moment. 

“Aziraphale.” 

The angel stopped, and turned. But before he could say anything, the ceiling crumbled above them. Then, it all crashed down. 

A small demonic miracle managed to save Crowley, but in his panic he forgot to extend it to Aziraphale. Who he couldn’t see. 

“AZIRAPHALE!” 

Scrambling over the debris, he began pulling away rocks and stone. 

“Crowley!” 

Relief flooded through the demon. A few more minutes of digging, and he managed to help Aziraphale claw his way out. With his body moving faster than his brain, he pulled Aziraphale close and tucked him under his chin. Closing his eyes, Crowley held him close. 

“You’re safe.”

Aziraphale wound his arms around Crowley, returning the embrace. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

**786 AD. Baghdad.**

“Aziraphale!” Crowley called out with a smile, as he caught a glimpse of that pure white hair. 

The only reason he was there was because of a minor temptation. Knowledge and reading really weren’t his area of expertise. But, he wasn’t really surprised to see Aziraphale here. The angel had always been so fascinated by humans and how they stored information. 

Aziraphale looked up, giving Crowley a smile back, though his was more pure than Crowley’s. He put down the manuscript he was reading. Standing from his spot on the stone floor, he crossed the room to pull Crowley into a quick hug. When he pulled back, he kept that brilliant smile on his face as he looked up at Crowley. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Crowley stepped back a little, shrugging. “Temptation. Nothing big. Came to see what all the fuss was about here.” 

At the mention of the current building they were in, Aziraphale brightened up, his eyes sparkling with joy.

“Oh, Crowley! It’s lovely. They’ve gathered all their knowledge and wisdom here. I just hope that this one doesn’t burn down,” he frowned, remembering that day so long ago.

Crowley glanced away, his arms crossed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. With you here guarding it I find it hard to believe anything  _ could  _ happen to it.”

Looking back up at him with that bright smile, Aziraphale agreed, “I do believe you’re right. Now, let me give you a tour, it’s honestly amazing!”

Never one to deny the angel, Crowley let himself be led around by him. His focus was more on Aziraphale’s excitement and wonder rather than the actual places and things Aziraphale was showing him. 

It soon grew dark outside but neither celestial cared. They were too busy wrapped up in the moment. But soon, Aziraphale ran out of things to show Crowley.

He turned, facing the demon, “Isn’t it marvelous?”

Crowley remained looking at Aziraphale as he smiled and said, “Yes, angel. It really is.”

**The Renaissance. Italy. **

The Renaissance was Crowley’s proudest achievement. It was one of the few things he had actually done that had received a commendation. He loved the creativity of it, everyone was out there creating, building, inventing working on things that questioned God but in such a beautiful way. The whole “questioning religion” thing is what got Hell to fall in love with it, but Crowley enjoyed it for humanity. 

Humanism, they called it. Though it wasn’t the name Crowley would have given it, he liked it all the same. Years later, he would look back and see this as the peak of humanity, in his opinion anyway.

He made a few friends during this time, Michelangelo, Raphael, Galileo, a few of the Medici’s, Raphael, and a couple others. But, one of his closest friends during this period was Leonardo da Vinci. 

The man was a genius, and Crowley wasn’t the only one who shared that thought. There were days where Crowley would sit and watch da Vinci ramble on about his inventions or paintings. Aziraphale would never be replaced, but it was nice having another human friend who would sit with him. Who would tolerate him. 

“You see, friend,” he said one day, when they were lounging about in the middle of the night, “it’s all about courage.”

Crowley scoffed, “Like I’ve got any of that. I’m cowardly.”

Da Vinci sat up from his chair and pointed a finger at him, “No, no.” He leaned back. “You’re more brave than you think. You just have to take the leap. Maybe he’s just as scared as you.”

Years passed and Crowley felt the most free than he had before. Aziraphale would show up to admire the work while Crowley would drag him off to dinner or to show him the newest thing Leonardo did. 

As humans do, da Vinci grew old. 

When the day inevitably came, Crowley was beside himself. He had known it was coming, he was foolish for being upset over it. It felt like another punishment, his friend leaving but him living on. It wasn’t fair. 

He refused to leave his home, even for the funeral. Instead he remained inside and slept for a week.

A knock woke him. Crowley’s first instinct was to ignore it, but then he felt Aziraphale’s aura. Pulling himself out of his bed, he crept to his door. For once he forwent the glasses, knowing that not even those would be able to hide his pain. 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale murmured once the door opened. 

He took one step in, shut the door, then wrapped Crowley up in his arms. The tears spilled before Crowley could stop it, and he clung to the angel like a life raft in the middle of an ocean. The ground shifted, and suddenly Crowley found himself in Aziraphale’s lap on the floor. 

Aziraphale shushed him, raising a hand to run through his red locks. Aziraphale didn’t speak, Crowley understood why. What could he possibly say to make Crowley feel better in that moment?

He lost track of how long they sat there, but it was well after the tears had dried and the two had grown quiet. Outside, the sun had risen and rain had began to fall. 

After what felt like forever, Aziraphale pulled back, cupping Crowley’s face in his hands. With a gentle, feather-light kiss to the demon’s forehead, Aziraphale pulled him back into a hug.

“Would you like to go-”

“Yes.”

There was a moment of silence.

Crowley wanted to go, even if it hurt. He owed that much to his friend. 

Untangling himself from the angel, he snapped on his sunglasses and suitable clothing. Aziraphale followed, exchanging his usually all white attire for black.

If this were any other time, Crowely would have reveled in seeing Aziraphale in his color. But it wasn’t the time. 

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and led him outside. Once in the open, they let go of each other, choosing to walk side by side. On the way, Crowley stopped at a flower shop to buy a bouquet.

It was a somber walk, but Crowley could feel the waves of reassurance the angel was sending him. It helped warm the cold a little. The demon followed Aziraphale, not knowing where they had buried his friend. 

“Oh bugger,” Aziraphale muttered, with equal parts terror and anger. 

Crowley looked up, and saw what the issue was.

“A bloody CHURCH,” he hissed, dropping his flowers. He stormed right up to the front, right up to where the consecrated ground started. Looking up at the sky, he began to shout. “AFTER EVERYTHING! A CHURCH. It’sss not fair! It’sss not bloody fair!” 

Crowley broke down again, crumpling to the ground to cry. In an instant, Aziraphale was by his side, holding him. The angel miracled the flowers back to perfection and handed them back over.

Aziraphale spoke softly, “It’s alright my dear, I’ll figure something out.”

But Crowley shook his head bitterly, turning away. “There’s no point. We should just go.”

“No.”

The finality of the word, the sheer power and strength behind it made Crowley freeze. He turned and looked back at Aziraphale only to be met with such an intense gaze. There was a ferocity behind it, one Crowley hadn’t seen before. 

“He meant a lot to you. You’re going to get in there somehow, and I’m not leaving till you do.”

Nodding, Crowley let Aziraphale lead him back, just to the edge. 

With a breath, Aziraphale turned to him, a nervousness replacing his passion. 

“I could carry you.”

Crowley only shook his head, “No.”

Aziraphale hummed. A silence fell between them, before Aziraphale sighed. 

“Crowley, my dear, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine angel,” Crowley responded, leaning down to rest the flowers on the edge of the building. He glared, just so they knew to stay fresh. “Sometimes things are beyond your control.”

“You deserve better.”

“I have all I need.”

**1804\. France.**

To set the record straight, no, Crowley did not influence Napoleon in anyway. He may have taken credit for it, but that was all humanity. 

He did stick around, though, to see what did come of the destruction. 

“So, I heard they banished him to an island,” informed a familiar bright voice. It was said with the air of someone trying to come off as casual but meaning to be condescending.

“Oh, piss off,” Crowley grumbled without any heat. 

He handed the bottle of wine over to Aziraphale who gladly took it as he settled into the seat next to Crowley.

There was a comfortable pause as they both continued drinking. Around their fifth pass around, Aziraphale did finally speak up.

“So, for the sake of being back in France,” he smiled, turning back to Crowley with that shine in his eyes, “What about some crepes?” 

With a sly grin back, Crowley held out a hand, “Of course. One of my favorite foods.”

Aziraphale blinked, then his face scrunched up in that cute way it did when he didn’t understand something or was confused, “I didn’t know you had a favorite food.”

“Of course I do, angel. Now, let’s go.”

He wasn’t going to tell him why, for now, they would spend time together and enjoy it without a care. 

**1920’s. America**

Now, the nineteen twenties had their issues. But for the demon Crowley, they were full of fun and success. The dancing, flappers, speakeasies, the scandale they brought.

Crowley loved it. It was her favorite time, and not to mention the flapper look was certainly one of her favorites as well. 

It was in one of these speakeasies that Aziraphale found her, high as hell on opium, drinking some alcohol. 

“Azzziraphale! Angel, it’sss nice to see you,” she said, her hiss more pronounced due to her lack of sobriety. 

She plastered herself right against his side as he slid closer with a disgruntled look on his face. Pressing a kiss on his cheek, she hugged him and giggled. 

Politely, Aziraphale pulled her off. 

“You should go home, Crowley,” he directed with a frown, his tone flat. 

Crowley only draped her arms around his neck again, burying her face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. The angel was warm, soft too. He felt like a cloud. Truely an angelic presence. Sometimes Aziraphale reminded her of a stuffy owl with his feathers all ruffled. With the thought of a creme colored owl with a tartan bowtie crossing her mind, she giggled again. 

“But why would I go home when I have you, feathers?” 

“Feathers? Well I certainly hope that one doesn’t catch on,” Aziraphale muttered before shaking his head. “Crowley, you’re inebriated. Heavily so. I think it’s best if you leave.”

“Only if you come with,” she smirked, kissing his other cheek. Now she was satisfied. He had matching lipstick marks on both cheeks. They almost faded into the bright red blush settled on her angel’s cheeks. She grinned ear to ear at that thought. 

Aziraphale grumbled before snapping. The cozy, dark setting of the speakeasy faded with the noise, and was replaced by a crackling fire and the familiar sight of Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

Crowley pouted, shifting her weight to lean fully against Aziraphale, “Aw, we’re back in London.”

Pulling her off once again, he helped her into a nearby chair before moving away. He came back a few moments later with a cup of cocoa. 

“So, you wanna tell me why you were there, angel,” she purred, ignoring the mug he handed her. She fluttered her eyelashes a bit, slipping her coat down so her shoulders were left uncovered. Her black, sleeveless dress came right up to her chest, with a mesh covering the rest of the area below her neck. 

Glancing away, frown deepening, Aziraphale answered, “You called me not ten minutes ago. It sounded a bit… worrying so I was hoping to bring you back home.”

“And you brought me here?” She lifted an eyebrow, crossing her legs. 

“Would you please sober up, dear?” 

“Do I have to?” she whined, dropping her pose to slump against the back of her chair.

“It would be preferable, yes.” 

“Fine,” she huffed, “only for you, though.” 

With a wink, she forced the opium and alcohol out of her system. Cringing, she tried to ignore the bitter taste in her mouth. Snapping back up to Aziraphale, she grimaced. 

“I’m sorry.”

Finally, only now, Aziraphale smiled, handing her the mug. He leaned comfortably against his chair, and said, “It’s quite alright. I just wanted to speak to you when you were in your right mind.” 

Heat rising to her cheeks, she busied herself in taking a sip of the warm cocoa.

“Though, I must say, you look beautiful in that dress.”

**2019\. London.**

When they returned back from the Ritz, Crowley hadn’t expected to be shoved against a bookcase and kissed.

Yet, he did in fact find himself pinned against a shelf of first editions with the angel’s lips pressed against his. The kiss wasn’t heated, it wasn’t rough or passionate. Instead, it was slow, loving, caring. It was gentle.

Letting out a whimper, Crowley sank into it, trying to convey just as much love as Aziraphale was sending. Lifting his hands up to cup Aziraphale’s face, he pushed further, deeper, closer. Wanting more but also wanting to stay right there. 

After an eternity, Aziraphale pulled back causing Crowley to whine at the loss. 

“Well,” he breathed out, running a hand through Crowley’s hair, “I’m really glad I’m able to do that now. I’ve wanted to kiss several times now.”

Crowley burst out laughing, resting his forehead on Aziraphale’s shoulder, “Several times?” 

“Well several memorable times, but yes, many more than that.” 

Glancing back up with a smirk, Crowley pressed a kiss to the side of Aziraphale’s jaw. 

“Aw, angel, do you have feelings for me?” 

Rolling his eyes, Aziraphale gave a soft tug to Crowley’s hair, “Oh, do shut up. I love you dearly and I believe that’s much more than ‘feelings’.” 

A happiness, unlike anything he had ever felt before filled Crowley to the brim until he was bursting with it. Joy seeped from everywhere, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you too, angel.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! feel free to follow me on tumblr @goodalexomens :)


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